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Where I'm From Poems
Hello group and may I say that your poems are wonderful. I was "in" your lives as you unveiled your thoughts and shared "you". You've made me want to know much more. Each of you, in some way, brought me to some of my own memories. Some that are good; some that are not so good. Thank you all for your willingness to risk and share. What a neat learning community we are. :)
Name: Dan McCoy
Poem: I AM FROM……
I am from the baseball field in my back yard, from hotdogs and tomato soup. I am from the little white ranch, the blue room filled with bright pictures and old posters. I am from dandelions and crab grass, and dirt patches and trees that mark 2nd base. I am from Friday pizza and Sunday brunches, from Tim, Kathy, TJ and Deanna filled with laughter, joy and love. I am from the “Luck of the Irish” and crisp fall afternoons. I am from Central Park and the Tigers and hour after hour of baseball and popcorn. I am from sticks and stones may break my bones but names will never hurt me. I am from it is better to try and to fail than to never have tried. I am from Father Hildebrand and Father Mike who guided us on Sundays through our Midwestern ways. I am from honest hard working roots, never taking and always giving. I am proud to look back and claim that I am one of them.
Dan
Comments: The Baseball imagery reminds me of my own 'baseball' days - well, the Romanian version called 'oina' but pretty close to the US game and just as full of excitement for players and spectators. (Darie)
I can "see" the dandelions and crab grass in my own yard and I read your poem. I was always outside playing which it seems you were too. (Andrea)
I am a big Notre Dame fan and loved those crisp afternoons... I can smell leaves burning now! (Ian)
Dan-- I love your line "I am from it is better to try and to fail than to never have tried." You paint a great picture of your life growing up. I too remember dandelions and crabgrass. Well written. (Maura M.)
Dan--Hey Dan, I really like the imagery of the first line...tomato soup...baseball...and hotdogs....:-) I grew up eating pizza on Fridays as well. Its funny how many people must eat pizza on friday. Anyway. I enjoyed your poem. Thanks! Name: Keryn Dowling
Poem:I AM FROM...... I am from picnic blankets at the beach, from milk in glass bottles and from vegemite sandwiches with the crusts cut off. I am from the house on the edge of town leading to an overripe orchard smelling of summer. I am from the weeping willow hugging the stream that even the youngest are double dared to leap over. I am from fish'n'chips on Fridays, from Grandad Lines and Uncle Bill who smell of pipe tobacco and of Nicola who died when she was just small. I am from the fast talking glass half full team who are always right. From come home when it gets dark and don't knock it 'til you've tried it. I am from a long line of proud All Black supporters, from pavlova and hokey pokey ice cream. I am from the medals Jack used to wear, from the dentures bedside the bed and from the ghost stories my cousins told long after bedtime. From DIY ingenuity and where bare feet are perfectly acceptable. I am from the land of the long white cloud, where vowels are short as the days are long and everything is simply 'sweet as'.
Comments: The vegemite sandwiches jumped out at me right away. In college, I had a teammate from Australia who always ate vegemite. To this day, I still don't fully know what it is! I can also relate to the fast talkers who are always right. My family has many of those which tends to make things interesting. (Ashli S)
I share Ashli's comment. Vegemite sandwiches remind me of that song Land Down Under. I love that line your wrote. Also the line about overripe orchard smelling of summer. It painted a great picture of a smell. Also your All Black comment reminds me of the Maori Haka. So powerful and dynamic. You poem has a lovely feeling of home. (Maura M) Name: Ian Daecher
Poem: I'M FROM I am from musty basketball gyms, from diet pepsi and extra strong coffee. I am from a town with sweet smelling chocolate and not-so sweet smelling manure. I am from the host of golden daffodils the sticky cherry trees. I am from Christmas pudding and over-exaggerators from Deck and Pamela and Grandpa Jim. I am from the loud talkers who cannot hear and do-it yourselfers. From ‘did you ask for the last brain from God?” and always expect the worst and hope for the best. I am from rebellion from the Catholic Church. I'm from West Suffolk, England and sheppard’s pie and bland cooking. From the family that missed their ride for the Titanic and the grandparents who kept the law on cabbage hill. I am from walls of Brookwood Drive, the hills of Sutton Hoo, and the sauerkraut juices of old German immigrants.
Comments: the rebellion against religion rang true to me. I felt guilty for a long time because religion really didn't cause me no harm, I was never pressured into believing or practicing anything. (Darie)
Oh rebellion against the Catholic Church! My mom's rule was that as long as I lived under her roof, I must attend church and CCD. Now that I am out on my own, I still feel I must go and be with her every Sunday at church. I feel guilty if I don't. At age 33, I'm still trying to make sense of the Catholic Church and my own beliefs. (Andrea)
The phrase 'did you ask from the last brain from God' sounds exactly like something my family would say! I'm not sure of your context, but ours would be when one of us had done something particularly unintelligent or couldn't figure out something very simple! (Keryn) - That is exactly the context! (Ian
I can totally connect with rebellion with the catholic church! :) And apparently I am not the only one. (Maura M)
I live only about 45 minutes from the sweet smelling chocolate and hey---I am from the not so sweet smelling manure too! Good old country smell.....at least you have the chocolate smell to help cover it up. Sauerkraut juices and PA German are in my blood. Love, love, love the old fashioned food and especially love cooking it. I could immediately relate to your poem in so many ways and this is a great way to get to know one another. We have all learned so much about each other! (Tracy H.)
I love sheppard's pie!! I too am from loud talkers. To this day I am know as being the"loud one" with my friends and co workers. The Titanic line jumps out at me in your poem...I bet your family is greatful and glad whatever circumstances existed that day did! (STEF) Name: Darie Ilies
Poem:
I am from the slight scent of vanilla on rainy mornings, from mashed potatoes and endless fields of wheat.
I am from the peaceful summer afternoons, the smell of books , the scraped knees in the woods.
I am from the honey combs on my way to school, the rose that first professed love to a girl
I am from fairytale Christmases and Easters and the simplicity of an egg hunt for… apples.
I am from the traveling side of the kin and one of the few who would give up the sober mountains for the liquid silliness of the sea.
From ‘Never forget, Darie!’ and fighting the gipsy curse with rituals of hey.
I am from a faith that always felt like a cozy blanket worn by past generations yet never trying to regiment me.
I'm from Transylvania, where even vampires can’t resist a good goulash.
From my brother’s broken arm, the feeling of emptiness when I told mother that I did it, the first fight with my best friend, and the loneliness of not being able to say ‘I’m sorry’.
I am from the old picture in front of the sculptured gate, now ravaged by time but then a monolith believed, by me, to be eternal.
I am a smiley face in the front row, so many people behind me now gone, so many next to me too far away.
Comments: Hi Darie. This is a very nice poem. I really liked the use of smell as a way to tell your story. Smell is such an important part of my own memories and experiences and it very clearly conjured these images, scents and feelings of my own mixed with your words. Very nicely done. Best, paula
I am also from "my brother's broken arm" These younger brothers will seem to do anything and they look up to their older sibling and want to please them... well that was the way with me. My brother's broken arm was my fault too. I really like how you put the line "I am from a faith that always felt like a cozy blanket worn by past generations yet never trying to regiment me." I really like what that says and what it does not say. Thanks for the images. (Maura M)
Hi Darie, very nice imagery and feel the tinge of sadness and beauty and awe all rolled into one. (Owen L)
Hi Darie I like how you used 'smell' in your peom of vanilla and books.I relate to your line of brother,bestfriedn and loneliness. (Hadeen H) Name: Andrea Oliver
Poem: I am from the lane, from Jello and Care Bears. I am from the quiet, peaceful house beside the cemetery. I am from the daffodils that bloom in the spring, the butterfly bush that attracts the butterflies and bees. I am from trips to Pittsburgh to see Grandma, the tall Schrefflers that can eat ice cream every night of the week, from Delores and Barry and Catherine. I am from the family that tells it like it is and faithful churchgoers on Sundays. From eat your crust because it will make your hair curly and don’t go outside with a wet head. I am from the Catholic Church who only eats fish on Fridays during Lent. I'm from Harrisburg, PA, Perogies and nut rolls. From the 16th birthday when my mom and dad surprised me with a car and big red bow in the garage, the Christmas card picture with my sister and her new horse and me with my new car, and the days when my dad would take me to meet my mom at her work for lunch. I am from the basement where boxes of pictures are located. They are years and years of family pictures showing family vacations, birthdays, trips to hunting camp, and holidays. Comments: Your poem reminds me a lot of my childhood. I was obsessed with Care Bears (and My Little Pony) and I also lived up the street from a cemetary. I also grew up near Harrisburg, in Lebanon County. When I was 18 my parents bought me a brand new car for Christmas and had it wrapped with wrapping paper and a huge red bow! (Ashli S)
I am from Care Bears too! It was my most desired and treasured toy, and very hard to acquire in NZ! I had to wait until my Grandma went overseas to get me one. Your image of your 16th is everything I imagine a 16th in America to be! In NZ the 16th birthday is a non-event really; the first big birthday that is celebrated is the 21st; the rite of passage into adulthood and leaving University. (Keryn)
I teach with several people who grew up in PA and I shared your poem with them and the loved it! The could relate. (Dan M)
My sister was crazy into Care Bears too and my mom gave one to her so she would be able to sleep by herself at night. (Owen L) Name: Ashli Shay
Poem:
I am from the hardwood, from Nike and Nittany Nation.
I am from the thick, itchy tall grass.
I am from the flower beds full of lilies and the cherry tree in the front yard.
I am from Christmas Eve parties that last until Christmas morning and telling the same jokes over and over again.
I am from the book of long stories never made short and enjoying a good laugh.
From hard work pays off and no matter how good you are there is always someone working to be better.
I am from Christmas Eve service by candlelight and Sunday breakfast after Church with Grandma and Grandpa.
I'm from the same town as Lebanon Levi, star of Amish Mafia, and meatloaf with mashed potatoes.
From the time we pushed Bri so fast on the merry-go-round that she got her foot caught and broke her ankle.
I am from pictures boxed up in the attic, memories that will last a lifetime, and pride that will remain with me always.
Comments:
That sounds like a great childhood! I like your "Nittany Nation" reference. We are Irish Catholic and proud "Subway" Alumni of Notre Dame. Christmas memories are some of my fondest as well. (Dan M)
What is Nittany Nation??? (Keryn)
This might help you, Keryn: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nittany_Lion Wow, thanks, not what I had thought at all! I thought perhaps it was something political!! (Keryn)
LOL. I never imagined being from Nittany Lion Nation! Neat. And the Lebanon Levi as the star of Amish Mafia.... I would love an explanation of that one! I grew up in Lancaster county in Strasburg sandwiched in a house between the Strasburg Railroad and the Choo Choo Barn! Meatloaf and mashed potatoes.... yep common memories. I enjoyed the picture you painted of Christmas. It sounds like a lot of fun and tradition in your family! (Maura M) Name: Maura Martin...
Poem: Where She Is From
I am from the mini green lawns by the train railroad tracks
I am from the place where the large maple tree sits
waiting for me
to climb up her sturdy-strong, leafy-green branches
I can see into the future from that height…
I am from a way back in time place where the Amish live
ride buggies and make quilts and deal in no-electricity using
while eating lemonade woopie pies and iced tea ham logs
the never ending photo snapping tourists traipse
to all types of family style buffets
I am from the urban place
in a steel lined cityscape zoo I roam
where music and harbor excitement jumps
and jazzes
I am from the aquarium place
where dolphins speak and sightseers listen
I am from the science Van de Graph place where
my hair flies and sizzles rising up off of the scalp
and my words lead to new learning of young and old
in the animal place there the 9 foot python wraps his tail in the warm
patch of my clot crotch shorts
crab spiced hammer feasts and Mexican food piled high
with a side of Chinese, Indian for variety
I am from the foreign places where new languages flow
and new foods flourish
I am from these lands far from home where old trade routes run
along borders incomplete
with old Soviet tanks trashing the horizon
I am from these places beyond the back of the beyond
where water does not flow
nor electricity finds itself in correct movement or location
where things foreign are all topsy turvy
with my culture collide
new things are interesting and not interesting all at the same time
where food is a mixture of all things Asian/European/Nomadic
Kumis like bile but pasta …
like sweet home cooked joy- my own heritage be true
I am from places both near and far
with moments of…
tasting and
seeing and
feeling and
smelling and
touching
new fragrant recollections of homes
both old and new
I am from the memories of both near and far.
Comments: Hi Maura, I quite like how you added more recent aspects of your life (or I imagined it as such) and I didn't even consider that, but it shapes us and makes us into who we are. Every day we are changing. Nice job! Take care, paula I like the images you have created here, especially the 'old soviet tanks trashing the horizon' and second what Paula wrote about the recent events and places that shape us being every bit as influencial as the early ones. Keryn
Hi Maura- your poem really resonates with me. I especially like the contrasts between city and country and the incorporation of your identity through different cultural experiences. I always reflect on my urban/rural life (growing up rural, living as an adult urban) and how my cultural experiences have shaped me. HarryH
All of these PA regional food references really bring me back to the times we took family trips out east to visit my dad's relatives in PA and NY. I, as well, like how you wove the narrative to spread through the years as you look back on all past moments. (Jet Odrerir) Name: Stefanie Scarborough
Poem:
I am from smelly manure fields, horse and buggy filled roads, with long summer nights
I am from the town of Quarryville, small and quaint, 5 different houses all filled with taint.
I am from the daisy flowers the butterfly bush and the aloe plant.
I am from wiffleball games and small little noses, from Sample and Frey, Harold Jr and Brenda Lee.
I am from the loud and hardworking.
From white hair and smiles, Muppet loving and fish flying.
I am from Brethren. Never practice, never preach.
I am from Lancaster and Germany, mashed potatoes and cheesy peas.
From the greatest Nan Nan who home cooked every meal, canned all the fruit and jelly, and the father of a farmer.
I am from mountain trip memories and beach going summers. Pictures on the walls, in photo books and a hope chest full of Nan Nan’s best.
Comments: Stefanie, I can definitely relate growing up in Lititz. Don't you love all the Dutch country cooking. Maybe not the healthiest, but it sure is tasty! (Ian)
Stefanie, I can also connect to your poem well with Quarryville and Muppet loving. I went to the catholic church in Quarryville. My mom was deathly afraid to drive 20 minutes into Lancaster so we drove 45 minutes every Sunday to Quarryville! And yes. The food in out part of PA is certainly unhealthy but it tastes so very homey and yummy! I agree with Ian. (Maura M)
Name: Paula Lyons
Poem:
“Where I’m From”
I am from hand-sewn quilts,
from Country Time and clothes drying in the sun.
I am from Court D Lot 34,
the ribbed aluminum coloring the hands white.
I am from the overgrown bushes, black-eyed Susan,
the fields chopped in neat rows
waiting in the hot sun
to be filled with seeds.
I’m from tractor tires
fashioned into handmade swings
turning and twisting filled with laughter.
I am from life filled with music
and picnicking in the shade
from Judy and Sydney.
I am from the mind your p’s and q’s
and keep your business to yourself.
From Sit tight! and Keep your britches on!
I am from Cemetery Hill
hellfire and brimstone
speaking only when spoken to.
I'm from Rolling Hills and biscuits and gravy.
From the gambler who won it all and lost it all,
the preacher unable to practice what he preached,
and the one left to put it all back together again.
I am from an old round tin of bent and curled faces,
birth certificates and funeral cards.
Fading memories shuffled through
with endless questions
and only a few answers.
Comments:
Paula I really like the use of words you use. I have to reread it a couple of times to get what I can connect to. It is not a simple poem but a complex mix of your own deep personal meanings that we can only guess at. I like how you are subtle and clear at the same time. I love the line: From the gambler who won it all and lost it all, the preacher unable to practice what he preached. ... I like that. It makes me think lots and lots. Well put together! (Maura M)
Name: Jason Woodall
Poem:
I am from a wrestling mat, from peanut butter sandwiches and sport drinks.
I am from the a little home next to the tall swaying weeping willow.
I am from the wooded land with corn stalks, dandelions, and the aroma of cow manure.
I am from visit grandmas for Sunday dinner and stubborn Welshman from Tom and Bob and James.
I am from the soft spoken parents and loud sisters.
From treating others how you want to be treated and keeping an open mind.
I am from no religious training. Sundays were meant to relax.
I'm from Scranton and love pizza with wings.
I am from the lake house, where baths were taken by going swimming, shoes and shirts were optional, grandson of Welch immigrants.
Comments: Hi Jason, It's great to see your childhood laid out like this. I can visualize a very nice beginning for you and I can smell it, too. I especially like your Sundays! Nice poem. Take care, paula
Hi Jason I like how you described sundays and religios training, sundays,sundays for me are all about relaxing too. (Hadeen H)
Jason-I can relate to you poem. My grandparents had a huge weeping willow tree ahhh what memories reading that brought back. My family too believed that Sunday's were meant for relaxing. I love pizza and wings- I think they go hand in hand with french fries-now that's a good Friday night dinner :) (STEF) Name: Harry Houlis
Poem:
I am from instant dinners from Spaghetti-O’s and Pop Tarts and Campbell’s soups. I am from the forests and hills and water of the Hudson Valley I am from By the Wood, from memories of family celebrations and home I am from the babbling brook, from the quiet pond on the hill I am from tradition and honor from Harry and Barbara from Raymond from Mary from Spiro and Mary. I am from laughter and fun from emotion and from passion. I am from Pan Am, Eastern, TWA. I am from JFK airport. I am from Maryland from New York, from Korea from Greece from Europe from the world. I am from respect for your elders and treat people the way you want to be treated I am from the Episcopalian church altar boy. From assisting father Badecker from joining the youth groups. I am not from there now. I am from West Point NY, from Greece, from Harrisburg Pennsylvania from Pensacola Florida from Salisbury steaks to Moussaka. I am from the sibling rivalry from the love and worry for my sons from the sadness of the distance between us. I am from everywhere and nowhere.
Comments:
Spaghetti O's... that was a staple of my growing up. As an adult I tried it and it was SO NASTY! Interesting! I like how you are from many places and no places at once. We always talk about Third Culture Kids but you sound like a Third Culture Adult! I am also curious about the line... "I am from Pan Am, Easter, TWA. I am from JFK airport." Very interesting! (Maura M)
Hi Maura-growing up my father would have postings overseas for a two year period. These postings happened about every 2-3 years. We were traveling a lot! We always seemd to fly out of JFK for my dad's tours. The airlines I rememebr the most were those listed. :) Name: Jet Odrerir
Poem: Where I Am From
I am from a pencil, from Marshall and Sears.
I am from the front balcony, bright, blossoming, a feast for my eyes.
I am from the ocean, the brilliant coral.
I am from car trips and dark-haired Swedes, from Wallace and Sigrid and Krueger.
I am from the loud dinner table and the curious bunch.
From having to be reminded that yes, I was indeed having fun (when I wasn’t) and that I was too young to be in love.
I am from believing that humans have more worth and potential when enjoying the dizzying splendor of it all. That wasting the wonderful now on worry for the tomorrows that never come or the yesterdays that cannot be changed is a tragedy.
I'm from smack dab in the middle, with pepperkaker and herring on holidays. Skol!
From the failed fortunes of Mountain Top Pop because Coke had ‘dope’ in it, the coins dropped around a worksite to check if anyone had indeed checked everywhere, and the patents that used to end up in the trash.
I am from the mantel in Minnesota, a wall in Go Dau, a Facebook entry from Uppsala. From steamer trunks stored for safekeeping in living rooms far away that hold endearments given long ago, snapshots of special times. Someday I’ll be a tree that may in its own time become a lover’s note or a hope chest.
Comments: Love your poem. I could seem myself in the midwest- I had my first lefsa last summer! I am interested in your "coins dropped" experience. HarryH
Loved this poem...especially the lines about human potential and the term "dizzying splendor" is just priceless. I have a lot of dizzying splendor - great term. I'm going to have to steal that from you! I also liked the Coke dope and dropping the coins to check on people. This poem really has great images which are couched in concise little bursts of imagination...the 2 last lines are really beautiful and sentimental - becoming a lover's note or hope chest is so sweet and adorable - that is a great ending, leaving the reader with a warm, happy feeling. Love it! Love it! Write more!!! (Caroline Dj.)
I could really relate to your imagery of the "loud dinner table and the curious bunch." I too come from a boisterious family! So much drama! However, I wouldnt change it for any price. Great poem! Kim Douglas Name: Owen Lau.
Poem:
I am from bamboo mats, from Yaukult and Kowloon Dairy Milk. I am from the noisy, humid, lushness of the sub-tropical palm trees. I am from the pomelo trees with its citrus and sweetness, the purplish red Bauhinia flower, the 90% mountainous island of Hong Kong. I am from weekly visits to the Tsim Sha Tsui center and love for art, from the Lau family and Ng family and Chan family. I am from the regular visits for dim sum on a lazy Saturday morning and getting fruit on a street market after dinner. From being told I shouldn’t be afraid of the sparks that were flying from metal workers on the sidewalk or jumping off the high board at the city pool. I am from paying respects at the annual visit to a city temple, and then to church retreats and summer camps, medical missions and being drawn to people who showed the love and acceptance of God. I'm from Hong Kong and Foshan, the hometown of Wang Fei-Hung (I first knew him from old Jet Li movies), and steamed dim sum in bamboo steamers, and milk tea cafes with half coffee and half black tea called Yin Yang. From the great-grandfather who travelled to Mexico with my grandfather until WWI started, and the same man who had 14 children, and the great-great grandmother who went to California as a mail-order bride. I am from a family of Chinese Americans and grew up in the salad that is Southern California.
Comments: I only lived in Asia for a little while, and have spent some time in HK. So much of your poem took me back to fond memories of HK dim sum, milk tea, and pomelo trees. Thanks! Name: Kimberly Douglas
Poem:
I am from endless alleyways, from the El and Mr. Softee's lullaby.
I am from elm trees and don't-crack-your-mother's-back cement.
I am from endless Shore summers, the Great Hellerina and Nicholai and Ott.
I am from the boisterious and blasphemous.
From a gypsy caravan and Somewhere Over the Rainbow.
I am from St. Martin of Tours, the Holy Family of Nazareth and fish-only-Fridays.
I'm from the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier and the strumming Mummers, pigs-in-the-blanket and Sunday roast beef.
From a notorious bootlegger, an indentured slave and city beat cop.
I am from the Stride Rite shoebox, the Kodak carousel, and Betsy Ross's stars and stripes.
Comments: Kimberly, I enjoyed reading your poem. I especially like the don't-crack-your-mother's-back. I think we all did that when we were young but that brings back memories. It is nice amazing how much food plays into our background and memories. Jason W. Name: Hadeen Poem:
I am from nice smelling pizzas and pasta coming from the oven
I am from the mysterious house on top of the hill with the most amazing view of the sea
I am from running in a field of yellow flowers and smelling the smell of grass
I am from hot summer days climbing trees and with the heat jumping into a pool of refreshing water
Tanning with chocolate chip icecream and carrot oil
I am from family Eid celebrations with loads of presents from Baba Sweet and vacation trips to grandma tete's house full of oh so much junk
I am from respecting your grandfather and be proud of who you are
I am from mother and fathers 'dont ruin our reputation or yours!' and organize your room your a woman!
I am from countless trips to religious camps to learn my religion
I am from Damascus and Eritreian blood, stuffed wine lives and spicy zighni
I am from running as fast as I can with my sisters diary threatening to read and expose her secret childhood sweathearts and from the sharp slap from my cousin because I didnt let him watch his soccer game
I am from sisterly rivalry and jealousy but blossomed to love and affection
I am from piles of heavy blue and red and black albums piled up in a hidden wardrobe full of memories of laughter and innocence
Poem:
Comments: Your images are awesome; I love "the loads of presents from Baba Sweet and grandma tete's house full of oh so much junk". I knew some older person with a house like that. When I read that line, I just laughed because it was so familiar. I also really like the lines about reading your sister's diary and about your cousin's soccer game - very well put. (Caroline Djordjevic) I love your imagery of the "mysterious house on top of the hil with the most amazing view of the sea." So jealous! I love the ocean, and spent many a summer day enjoying the beaches along the NJ shoreline. I hope some day to own my own beach house and crab off my own sailboat! I too alluded to family photos in the last line of my poem. It's interesting how many of us did. Lovely poem. (Kim Douglas) Name: Caroline Djordjevic
Poem: “Where I’M From” I am from the square, nondescript house full of frowning chaos and belligerence, its roof raising from high tension and walls bursting from the weight of dissonance. I am from the lush, wild abundance of graceful purples irises, hot pink dahlias, ruby red strawberries, proud carrots, smooth melons, and fragrant gardenias calling my name like sirens for generous droplets of nectar, water. I am from the fake, smarmy politician wasp nests and bright neon chartreuse billboards excitedly worshiping idols with clay feet. I am from the quiet, cold streets, trudging up steps to deliver propaganda with tiny, cold chapped fingers and runny nose, cringing at the barking dog and sour faces, dreaming of being comfortable Cindy Brady. I am from the warm, cozy cushiony bosom of Baba; her bureau crammed with exotic chocolates and rainbows of confections, teasing my yearning tastebuds. I am the saucer eyed Catholic schoolgirl regretting her sins and nervously swallowing the wafer of forgiveness, gold braids quietly standing at attention. I am from the old tire swing over the catfish pond with bright-eyed green frogs gazing as the little blondie swings overhead, splashing into their living rooms. I am from the embrace of the wise old cherry tree, tempting me with with luscious, glistening baubles of red as I scaled closer to my tasty prizes. I am from the sweet, cooing murmurs of the baby boy nuzzling my breast, as he dozes contentedly to the steady metronome of Mama’s heart. I am from the sea of bright, excited faces and idle chatter as I call out tongue-tying name after name from the lifeboat of the podium. I am Lucy and the golden daffodils that Wordsworth spoke of eons ago in his emotion recollected in tranquility far off in the cool climes of England. I am hanging from one of Vincent’s stars, as I ponder the beauty of Monet’s lilypads and wonder if Modigliani could ever love a curvy Slavic woman. I am from the quiet, safe confines of the library, ensconced on rough, scratchy carpet while I savor the adventures of Pippi and wonder if I could ever be like Nancy Drew. I am from the hot, rolling Atlantic Ocean floating around with abandon while stingrays and hammerheads patrol their turf not too far away. I am from the dark, dreary maze of projects dotted with empty faces and shady characters flitting around blabbering insanely as I quickly toss my bookbag into the car and vamoose.
Comments:
You’re descriptions leap into visuals, like the colors in “The Wizard of Oz”, deep, rich and punctuated. Good writing really stands out. Possibly, because of your mostly vivid descriptions, I’m very curious about the things you don’t describe so lucidly; the propaganda, politician and projects. (Jet Odrerir)
Thanks for the praise...my father was a politician for over 30 years, and I grew up having to deliver his political brochures to every house in my city; it was boring and tedious work, and I was often cold and hungry. We had crews of young people, and an adult would drop us off at the end of each street block and pick us up later after we had finished delivering the "propaganda". He had big bright chartreuse and hunter green brochures with our name plastered on them. I grew up seeing my name all over the place; it was unreal. (Caroline)
I enjoyed reading your poem. You are very descriptive and great at creating visuals. I can relate the catfish pond with a tire swing and frogs. I can remember doing all of those things when I was young. We used to catch hundreds of frogs and try to translate them in our small pond in the yard. You are a much more talented writere than I am. Nice job.
Jason W. Name: Tracy Herber
Poem: I am from sunshine that warms my body, from Tetley Iced Tea that quenches my thirst and sunglasses . I am from the comfy lazy boy rocker that knocks me out instantly. I am from the daffodils and the tulips that beautify this earth. I am from camping and patience from Roy and Tyler and Logan. I am from the all-male household and lots of testosterone. From caring for the elderly and respecting others. I am from the Lutheran religion. I'm from Reading, PA and distant Indian ancestry, bananas and peaches. From the birth of our first son taking his time to enter the world and the birth of our second son who practically couldn't wait. I am from piles and piles of photo albums, boxes of pictures and endless video tapes indicating wild and crazy momemts of wonderful memories.
Comments: Name: Jason Doherty
Poem:
Where I’m From…… by Jason Doherty
I am from horseshoes, from big shiny belt buckles and boots. I am from the dust in the air (swirling, brown, with the magnificent heat of the sun). I am from the rolling tumbleweeds, and mangled mesquite bush, the rugged and rough. I am from BBQ Pits and singing songs, from Marlbro-Little Pa and Weather Channel-Mee Maw, living the simple Texas life. I am from loyalty and hard work. I am from a place in which ones “word” means everything. I am from anything is possible and never stop dreaming. I am from the truth and the light. The cross and its sacrifice. Baptised in the faith as if it were my own. I am from Oil, Cotton, and Cattle by way of Irish hopefuls to find a better life. From Bangers and Mash to Bacon and Beans I come. From the hands of my grandfather, Toby Doherty, who worked his whole life as a roughneck so that his son could have education I come. I come as only the second of my surname to attain a college degree. I am from those moments, The ones in which we evolve and disappear, Ones which we try to grasp, but only realize the peace of the universe resides within.
Comments: Name: Susan Brien
Poem: I am from the shadows from radio and song I am from the rooms of soft colors, bursting with anger and sadness.
I am from the lilies, the city, and the plains; I’m from music and Leprechauns (short people), from Mary and Ralph.
I’m from the unknown anger and ever present bottle, From God loves you and I wish I never had the first one of you. I’m from positives statements and hypocrisy, of saying the right things and not living them, I’m from Ireland, Wales, Switzerland, and Germany, of macaroni and cheese, fish sticks, and hating mushrooms.
From a Swiss pioneer of Dubuque, Iowa (my great grandmother) whose name was changed when she came here to live with her father after his divorce from her mother who remarried and lived in Germany and never saw her daughter again;
From the Irish great grandfather who was shot in the Civil War who was a house painter, a shoe maker, and a landscaper in Chicago, who met his girlfriend in a cemetery to grab a few moments of togetherness because her father disapproved of him.
The Grand Uncle who fought in the Spanish-American War and was shell-shocked, the mother who was a professional singer, the grandfather from Swansea who died on a golf course, and the father who was an angry, explosive, unhappy guy. From the only picture of me as a baby that has survived, from my grandmother’s wedding ring that I wear every day, from my website about genealogyhttp://www.alxnme,com , from the card given to me by Todd that I take with me everywhere, from the mental illness of my brother for whom I am guardian, from all of my kids who are my real heroes, and from the notes from parents and students who mean a lot to me and from those who love me and those who refuse to love me.
Home > Activity 2-A-2: Where I'm From
Instructions:
Where I'm From Poems
Hello group and may I say that your poems are wonderful. I was "in" your lives as you unveiled your thoughts and shared "you". You've made me want to know much more. Each of you, in some way, brought me to some of my own memories. Some that are good; some that are not so good. Thank you all for your willingness to risk and share. What a neat learning community we are. :)
Name: Dan McCoy
Poem:
I AM FROM……
I am from the baseball field in my back yard, from hotdogs and tomato soup.
I am from the little white ranch, the blue room filled with bright pictures and old posters.
I am from dandelions and crab grass, and dirt patches and trees that mark 2nd base.
I am from Friday pizza and Sunday brunches, from Tim, Kathy, TJ and Deanna filled with laughter, joy and love.
I am from the “Luck of the Irish” and crisp fall afternoons.
I am from Central Park and the Tigers and hour after hour of baseball and popcorn.
I am from sticks and stones may break my bones but names will never hurt me.
I am from it is better to try and to fail than to never have tried.
I am from Father Hildebrand and Father Mike who guided us on Sundays through our Midwestern ways.
I am from honest hard working roots, never taking and always giving. I am proud to look back and claim that I am one of them.
Dan
Comments: The Baseball imagery reminds me of my own 'baseball' days - well, the Romanian version called 'oina' but pretty close to the US game and just as full of excitement for players and spectators. (Darie)
I can "see" the dandelions and crab grass in my own yard and I read your poem. I was always outside playing which it seems you were too. (Andrea)
I am a big Notre Dame fan and loved those crisp afternoons... I can smell leaves burning now! (Ian)
Dan-- I love your line "I am from it is better to try and to fail than to never have tried." You paint a great picture of your life growing up. I too remember dandelions and crabgrass. Well written. (Maura M.)
Dan--Hey Dan, I really like the imagery of the first line...tomato soup...baseball...and hotdogs....:-) I grew up eating pizza on Fridays as well. Its funny how many people must eat pizza on friday. Anyway. I enjoyed your poem. Thanks!
Name: Keryn Dowling
Poem: I AM FROM......
I am from picnic blankets at the beach, from milk in glass bottles and from vegemite sandwiches with the crusts cut off.
I am from the house on the edge of town leading to an overripe orchard smelling of summer.
I am from the weeping willow hugging the stream that even the youngest are double dared to leap over.
I am from fish'n'chips on Fridays, from Grandad Lines and Uncle Bill who smell of pipe tobacco and of Nicola who died when she was just small.
I am from the fast talking glass half full team who are always right.
From come home when it gets dark and don't knock it 'til you've tried it.
I am from a long line of proud All Black supporters, from pavlova and hokey pokey ice cream.
I am from the medals Jack used to wear, from the dentures bedside the bed and from the ghost stories my cousins told long after bedtime.
From DIY ingenuity and where bare feet are perfectly acceptable.
I am from the land of the long white cloud, where vowels are short as the days are long and everything is simply 'sweet as'.
Comments:
The vegemite sandwiches jumped out at me right away. In college, I had a teammate from Australia who always ate vegemite. To this day, I still don't fully know what it is! I can also relate to the fast talkers who are always right. My family has many of those which tends to make things interesting. (Ashli S)
I share Ashli's comment. Vegemite sandwiches remind me of that song Land Down Under. I love that line your wrote. Also the line about overripe orchard smelling of summer. It painted a great picture of a smell. Also your All Black comment reminds me of the Maori Haka. So powerful and dynamic. You poem has a lovely feeling of home. (Maura M)
Name: Ian Daecher
Poem:
I'M FROM
I am from musty basketball gyms, from diet pepsi and extra strong coffee.
I am from a town with sweet smelling chocolate and not-so sweet smelling manure.
I am from the host of golden daffodils the sticky cherry trees.
I am from Christmas pudding and over-exaggerators from Deck and Pamela and Grandpa Jim.
I am from the loud talkers who cannot hear and do-it yourselfers.
From ‘did you ask for the last brain from God?” and always expect the worst and hope for the best.
I am from rebellion from the Catholic Church.
I'm from West Suffolk, England and sheppard’s pie and bland cooking.
From the family that missed their ride for the Titanic and the grandparents who kept the law on cabbage hill.
I am from walls of Brookwood Drive, the hills of Sutton Hoo, and the sauerkraut juices of old German immigrants.
Comments: the rebellion against religion rang true to me. I felt guilty for a long time because religion really didn't cause me no harm, I was never pressured into believing or practicing anything. (Darie)
Oh rebellion against the Catholic Church! My mom's rule was that as long as I lived under her roof, I must attend church and CCD. Now that I am out on my own, I still feel I must go and be with her every Sunday at church. I feel guilty if I don't. At age 33, I'm still trying to make sense of the Catholic Church and my own beliefs. (Andrea)
The phrase 'did you ask from the last brain from God' sounds exactly like something my family would say! I'm not sure of your context, but ours would be when one of us had done something particularly unintelligent or couldn't figure out something very simple! (Keryn) - That is exactly the context! (Ian
I can totally connect with rebellion with the catholic church! :) And apparently I am not the only one. (Maura M)
I live only about 45 minutes from the sweet smelling chocolate and hey---I am from the not so sweet smelling manure too! Good old country smell.....at least you have the chocolate smell to help cover it up. Sauerkraut juices and PA German are in my blood. Love, love, love the old fashioned food and especially love cooking it. I could immediately relate to your poem in so many ways and this is a great way to get to know one another. We have all learned so much about each other! (Tracy H.)
I love sheppard's pie!! I too am from loud talkers. To this day I am know as being the"loud one" with my friends and co workers. The Titanic line jumps out at me in your poem...I bet your family is greatful and glad whatever circumstances existed that day did! (STEF)
Name: Darie Ilies
Poem:
I am from the slight scent of vanilla on rainy mornings, from mashed potatoes and endless fields of wheat.
I am from the peaceful summer afternoons, the smell of books , the scraped knees in the woods.
I am from the honey combs on my way to school, the rose that first professed love to a girl
I am from fairytale Christmases and Easters and the simplicity of an egg hunt for… apples.
I am from the traveling side of the kin and one of the few who would give up the sober mountains for the liquid silliness of the sea.
From ‘Never forget, Darie!’ and fighting the gipsy curse with rituals of hey.
I am from a faith that always felt like a cozy blanket worn by past generations yet never trying to regiment me.
I'm from Transylvania, where even vampires can’t resist a good goulash.
From my brother’s broken arm, the feeling of emptiness when I told mother that I did it, the first fight with my best friend, and the loneliness of not being able to say ‘I’m sorry’.
I am from the old picture in front of the sculptured gate, now ravaged by time but then a monolith believed, by me, to be eternal.
I am a smiley face in the front row, so many people behind me now gone, so many next to me too far away.
Comments: Hi Darie. This is a very nice poem. I really liked the use of smell as a way to tell your story. Smell is such an important part of my own memories and experiences and it very clearly conjured these images, scents and feelings of my own mixed with your words. Very nicely done. Best, paula
I am also from "my brother's broken arm" These younger brothers will seem to do anything and they look up to their older sibling and want to please them... well that was the way with me. My brother's broken arm was my fault too. I really like how you put the line "I am from a faith that always felt like a cozy blanket worn by past generations yet never trying to regiment me." I really like what that says and what it does not say. Thanks for the images. (Maura M)
Hi Darie, very nice imagery and feel the tinge of sadness and beauty and awe all rolled into one. (Owen L)
Hi Darie I like how you used 'smell' in your peom of vanilla and books.I relate to your line of brother,bestfriedn and loneliness. (Hadeen H)
Name: Andrea Oliver
Poem:
I am from the lane, from Jello and Care Bears.
I am from the quiet, peaceful house beside the cemetery.
I am from the daffodils that bloom in the spring, the butterfly bush that attracts the butterflies and bees.
I am from trips to Pittsburgh to see Grandma, the tall Schrefflers that can eat ice cream every night of the week, from Delores and Barry and Catherine.
I am from the family that tells it like it is and faithful churchgoers on Sundays.
From eat your crust because it will make your hair curly and don’t go outside with a wet head.
I am from the Catholic Church who only eats fish on Fridays during Lent.
I'm from Harrisburg, PA, Perogies and nut rolls.
From the 16th birthday when my mom and dad surprised me with a car and big red bow in the garage, the Christmas card picture with my sister and her new horse and me with my new car, and the days when my dad would take me to meet my mom at her work for lunch.
I am from the basement where boxes of pictures are located. They are years and years of family pictures showing family vacations, birthdays, trips to hunting camp, and holidays.
Comments:
Your poem reminds me a lot of my childhood. I was obsessed with Care Bears (and My Little Pony) and I also lived up the street from a cemetary. I also grew up near Harrisburg, in Lebanon County. When I was 18 my parents bought me a brand new car for Christmas and had it wrapped with wrapping paper and a huge red bow! (Ashli S)
I am from Care Bears too! It was my most desired and treasured toy, and very hard to acquire in NZ! I had to wait until my Grandma went overseas to get me one. Your image of your 16th is everything I imagine a 16th in America to be! In NZ the 16th birthday is a non-event really; the first big birthday that is celebrated is the 21st; the rite of passage into adulthood and leaving University. (Keryn)
I teach with several people who grew up in PA and I shared your poem with them and the loved it! The could relate. (Dan M)
My sister was crazy into Care Bears too and my mom gave one to her so she would be able to sleep by herself at night. (Owen L)
Name: Ashli Shay
Poem:
I am from the hardwood, from Nike and Nittany Nation.
I am from the thick, itchy tall grass.
I am from the flower beds full of lilies and the cherry tree in the front yard.
I am from Christmas Eve parties that last until Christmas morning and telling the same jokes over and over again.
I am from the book of long stories never made short and enjoying a good laugh.
From hard work pays off and no matter how good you are there is always someone working to be better.
I am from Christmas Eve service by candlelight and Sunday breakfast after Church with Grandma and Grandpa.
I'm from the same town as Lebanon Levi, star of Amish Mafia, and meatloaf with mashed potatoes.
From the time we pushed Bri so fast on the merry-go-round that she got her foot caught and broke her ankle.
I am from pictures boxed up in the attic, memories that will last a lifetime, and pride that will remain with me always.
Comments:
That sounds like a great childhood! I like your "Nittany Nation" reference. We are Irish Catholic and proud "Subway" Alumni of Notre Dame. Christmas memories are some of my fondest as well. (Dan M)
What is Nittany Nation??? (Keryn)
This might help you, Keryn:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nittany_Lion Wow, thanks, not what I had thought at all! I thought perhaps it was something political!! (Keryn)
LOL. I never imagined being from Nittany Lion Nation! Neat. And the Lebanon Levi as the star of Amish Mafia.... I would love an explanation of that one! I grew up in Lancaster county in Strasburg sandwiched in a house between the Strasburg Railroad and the Choo Choo Barn! Meatloaf and mashed potatoes.... yep common memories. I enjoyed the picture you painted of Christmas. It sounds like a lot of fun and tradition in your family! (Maura M)
Name: Maura Martin...
Poem: Where She Is From
I am from the mini green lawns by the train railroad tracks
I am from the place where the large maple tree sits
waiting for me
to climb up her sturdy-strong, leafy-green branches
I can see into the future from that height…
I am from a way back in time place where the Amish live
ride buggies and make quilts and deal in no-electricity using
while eating lemonade woopie pies and iced tea ham logs
the never ending photo snapping tourists traipse
to all types of family style buffets
I am from the urban place
in a steel lined cityscape zoo I roam
where music and harbor excitement jumps
and jazzes
I am from the aquarium place
where dolphins speak and sightseers listen
I am from the science Van de Graph place where
my hair flies and sizzles rising up off of the scalp
and my words lead to new learning of young and old
in the animal place there the 9 foot python wraps his tail in the warm
patch of my clot crotch shorts
crab spiced hammer feasts and Mexican food piled high
with a side of Chinese, Indian for variety
I am from the foreign places where new languages flow
and new foods flourish
I am from these lands far from home where old trade routes run
along borders incomplete
with old Soviet tanks trashing the horizon
I am from these places beyond the back of the beyond
where water does not flow
nor electricity finds itself in correct movement or location
where things foreign are all topsy turvy
with my culture collide
new things are interesting and not interesting all at the same time
where food is a mixture of all things Asian/European/Nomadic
Kumis like bile but pasta …
like sweet home cooked joy- my own heritage be true
I am from places both near and far
with moments of…
tasting and
seeing and
feeling and
smelling and
touching
new fragrant recollections of homes
both old and new
I am from the memories of both near and far.
Comments: Hi Maura, I quite like how you added more recent aspects of your life (or I imagined it as such) and I didn't even consider that, but it shapes us and makes us into who we are. Every day we are changing. Nice job! Take care, paula
I like the images you have created here, especially the 'old soviet tanks trashing the horizon' and second what Paula wrote about the recent events and places that shape us being every bit as influencial as the early ones. Keryn
Hi Maura- your poem really resonates with me. I especially like the contrasts between city and country and the incorporation of your identity through different cultural experiences. I always reflect on my urban/rural life (growing up rural, living as an adult urban) and how my cultural experiences have shaped me. HarryH
All of these PA regional food references really bring me back to the times we took family trips out east to visit my dad's relatives in PA and NY. I, as well, like how you wove the narrative to spread through the years as you look back on all past moments. (Jet Odrerir)
Name: Stefanie Scarborough
Poem:
I am from smelly manure fields, horse and buggy filled roads, with long summer nights
I am from the town of Quarryville, small and quaint, 5 different houses all filled with taint.
I am from the daisy flowers the butterfly bush and the aloe plant.
I am from wiffleball games and small little noses, from Sample and Frey, Harold Jr and Brenda Lee.
I am from the loud and hardworking.
From white hair and smiles, Muppet loving and fish flying.
I am from Brethren. Never practice, never preach.
I am from Lancaster and Germany, mashed potatoes and cheesy peas.
From the greatest Nan Nan who home cooked every meal, canned all the fruit and jelly, and the father of a farmer.
I am from mountain trip memories and beach going summers. Pictures on the walls, in photo books and a hope chest full of Nan Nan’s best.
Comments: Stefanie, I can definitely relate growing up in Lititz. Don't you love all the Dutch country cooking. Maybe not the healthiest, but it sure is tasty! (Ian)
Stefanie, I can also connect to your poem well with Quarryville and Muppet loving. I went to the catholic church in Quarryville. My mom was deathly afraid to drive 20 minutes into Lancaster so we drove 45 minutes every Sunday to Quarryville! And yes. The food in out part of PA is certainly unhealthy but it tastes so very homey and yummy! I agree with Ian. (Maura M)
Name: Paula Lyons
Poem:
“Where I’m From”
I am from hand-sewn quilts,
from Country Time and clothes drying in the sun.
I am from Court D Lot 34,
the ribbed aluminum coloring the hands white.
I am from the overgrown bushes, black-eyed Susan,
the fields chopped in neat rows
waiting in the hot sun
to be filled with seeds.
I’m from tractor tires
fashioned into handmade swings
turning and twisting filled with laughter.
I am from life filled with music
and picnicking in the shade
from Judy and Sydney.
I am from the mind your p’s and q’s
and keep your business to yourself.
From Sit tight! and Keep your britches on!
I am from Cemetery Hill
hellfire and brimstone
speaking only when spoken to.
I'm from Rolling Hills and biscuits and gravy.
From the gambler who won it all and lost it all,
the preacher unable to practice what he preached,
and the one left to put it all back together again.
I am from an old round tin of bent and curled faces,
birth certificates and funeral cards.
Fading memories shuffled through
with endless questions
and only a few answers.
Comments:
Paula I really like the use of words you use. I have to reread it a couple of times to get what I can connect to. It is not a simple poem but a complex mix of your own deep personal meanings that we can only guess at. I like how you are subtle and clear at the same time. I love the line: From the gambler who won it all and lost it all, the preacher unable to practice what he preached. ... I like that. It makes me think lots and lots. Well put together! (Maura M)
Name: Jason Woodall
Poem:
I am from a wrestling mat, from peanut butter sandwiches and sport drinks.
I am from the a little home next to the tall swaying weeping willow.
I am from the wooded land with corn stalks, dandelions, and the aroma of cow manure.
I am from visit grandmas for Sunday dinner and stubborn Welshman from Tom and Bob and James.
I am from the soft spoken parents and loud sisters.
From treating others how you want to be treated and keeping an open mind.
I am from no religious training. Sundays were meant to relax.
I'm from Scranton and love pizza with wings.
I am from the lake house, where baths were taken by going swimming, shoes and shirts were optional, grandson of Welch immigrants.
Comments: Hi Jason, It's great to see your childhood laid out like this. I can visualize a very nice beginning for you and I can smell it, too. I especially like your Sundays! Nice poem. Take care, paula
Hi Jason I like how you described sundays and religios training, sundays,sundays for me are all about relaxing too. (Hadeen H)
Jason-I can relate to you poem. My grandparents had a huge weeping willow tree ahhh what memories reading that brought back. My family too believed that Sunday's were meant for relaxing. I love pizza and wings- I think they go hand in hand with french fries-now that's a good Friday night dinner :) (STEF)
Name: Harry Houlis
Poem:
I am from instant dinners from Spaghetti-O’s and Pop Tarts and Campbell’s soups.
I am from the forests and hills and water of the Hudson Valley
I am from By the Wood, from memories of family celebrations and home
I am from the babbling brook, from the quiet pond on the hill
I am from tradition and honor from Harry and Barbara from Raymond from Mary from Spiro and Mary.
I am from laughter and fun from emotion and from passion.
I am from Pan Am, Eastern, TWA. I am from JFK airport.
I am from Maryland from New York, from Korea from Greece from Europe from the world.
I am from respect for your elders and treat people the way you want to be treated
I am from the Episcopalian church altar boy. From assisting father Badecker from joining the youth groups. I am not from there now.
I am from West Point NY, from Greece, from Harrisburg Pennsylvania from Pensacola Florida from Salisbury steaks to Moussaka.
I am from the sibling rivalry from the love and worry for my sons from the sadness of the distance between us.
I am from everywhere and nowhere.
Comments:
Spaghetti O's... that was a staple of my growing up. As an adult I tried it and it was SO NASTY! Interesting! I like how you are from many places and no places at once. We always talk about Third Culture Kids but you sound like a Third Culture Adult! I am also curious about the line... "I am from Pan Am, Easter, TWA. I am from JFK airport." Very interesting! (Maura M)
Hi Maura-growing up my father would have postings overseas for a two year period. These postings happened about every 2-3 years. We were traveling a lot! We always seemd to fly out of JFK for my dad's tours. The airlines I rememebr the most were those listed. :)
Name: Jet Odrerir
Poem:
Where I Am From
I am from a pencil, from Marshall and Sears.
I am from the front balcony, bright, blossoming, a feast for my eyes.
I am from the ocean, the brilliant coral.
I am from car trips and dark-haired Swedes, from Wallace and Sigrid and Krueger.
I am from the loud dinner table and the curious bunch.
From having to be reminded that yes, I was indeed having fun (when I wasn’t) and that I was too young to be in love.
I am from believing that humans have more worth and potential when enjoying the dizzying splendor of it all. That wasting the wonderful now on worry for the tomorrows that never come or the yesterdays that cannot be changed is a tragedy.
I'm from smack dab in the middle, with pepperkaker and herring on holidays. Skol!
From the failed fortunes of Mountain Top Pop because Coke had ‘dope’ in it, the coins dropped around a worksite to check if anyone had indeed checked everywhere, and the patents that used to end up in the trash.
I am from the mantel in Minnesota, a wall in Go Dau, a Facebook entry from Uppsala. From steamer trunks stored for safekeeping in living rooms far away that hold endearments given long ago, snapshots of special times. Someday I’ll be a tree that may in its own time become a lover’s note or a hope chest.
Comments: Love your poem. I could seem myself in the midwest- I had my first lefsa last summer! I am interested in your "coins dropped" experience. HarryH
Loved this poem...especially the lines about human potential and the term "dizzying splendor" is just priceless. I have a lot of dizzying splendor - great term. I'm going to have to steal that from you! I also liked the Coke dope and dropping the coins to check on people. This poem really has great images which are couched in concise little bursts of imagination...the 2 last lines are really beautiful and sentimental - becoming a lover's note or hope chest is so sweet and adorable - that is a great ending, leaving the reader with a warm, happy feeling. Love it! Love it! Write more!!! (Caroline Dj.)
I could really relate to your imagery of the "loud dinner table and the curious bunch." I too come from a boisterious family! So much drama! However, I wouldnt change it for any price. Great poem! Kim Douglas
Name: Owen Lau.
Poem:
I am from bamboo mats, from Yaukult and Kowloon Dairy Milk.
I am from the noisy, humid, lushness of the sub-tropical palm trees.
I am from the pomelo trees with its citrus and sweetness, the purplish red Bauhinia flower, the 90% mountainous island of Hong Kong.
I am from weekly visits to the Tsim Sha Tsui center and love for art, from the Lau family and Ng family and Chan family.
I am from the regular visits for dim sum on a lazy Saturday morning and getting fruit on a street market after dinner.
From being told I shouldn’t be afraid of the sparks that were flying from metal workers on the sidewalk or jumping off the high board at the city pool.
I am from paying respects at the annual visit to a city temple, and then to church retreats and summer camps, medical missions and being drawn to people who showed the love and acceptance of God.
I'm from Hong Kong and Foshan, the hometown of Wang Fei-Hung (I first knew him from old Jet Li movies), and steamed dim sum in bamboo steamers, and milk tea cafes with half coffee and half black tea called Yin Yang.
From the great-grandfather who travelled to Mexico with my grandfather until WWI started, and the same man who had 14 children, and the great-great grandmother who went to California as a mail-order bride.
I am from a family of Chinese Americans and grew up in the salad that is Southern California.
Comments: I only lived in Asia for a little while, and have spent some time in HK. So much of your poem took me back to fond memories of HK dim sum, milk tea, and pomelo trees. Thanks!
Name: Kimberly Douglas
Poem:
I am from endless alleyways, from the El and Mr. Softee's lullaby.
I am from elm trees and don't-crack-your-mother's-back cement.
I am from endless Shore summers, the Great Hellerina and Nicholai and Ott.
I am from the boisterious and blasphemous.
From a gypsy caravan and Somewhere Over the Rainbow.
I am from St. Martin of Tours, the Holy Family of Nazareth and fish-only-Fridays.
I'm from the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier and the strumming Mummers, pigs-in-the-blanket and Sunday roast beef.
From a notorious bootlegger, an indentured slave and city beat cop.
I am from the Stride Rite shoebox, the Kodak carousel, and Betsy Ross's stars and stripes.
Comments: Kimberly, I enjoyed reading your poem. I especially like the don't-crack-your-mother's-back. I think we all did that when we were young but that brings back memories. It is nice amazing how much food plays into our background and memories.
Jason W.
Name: Hadeen
Poem:
I am from nice smelling pizzas and pasta coming from the oven
I am from the mysterious house on top of the hill with the most amazing view of the sea
I am from running in a field of yellow flowers and smelling the smell of grass
I am from hot summer days climbing trees and with the heat jumping into a pool of refreshing water
Tanning with chocolate chip icecream and carrot oil
I am from family Eid celebrations with loads of presents from Baba Sweet and vacation trips to grandma tete's house full of oh so much junk
I am from respecting your grandfather and be proud of who you are
I am from mother and fathers 'dont ruin our reputation or yours!' and organize your room your a woman!
I am from countless trips to religious camps to learn my religion
I am from Damascus and Eritreian blood, stuffed wine lives and spicy zighni
I am from running as fast as I can with my sisters diary threatening to read and expose her secret childhood sweathearts and from the sharp slap from my cousin because I didnt let him watch his soccer game
I am from sisterly rivalry and jealousy but blossomed to love and affection
I am from piles of heavy blue and red and black albums piled up in a hidden wardrobe full of memories of laughter and innocence
Poem:
Comments: Your images are awesome; I love "the loads of presents from Baba Sweet and grandma tete's house full of oh so much junk". I knew some older person with a house like that. When I read that line, I just laughed because it was so familiar. I also really like the lines about reading your sister's diary and about your cousin's soccer game - very well put. (Caroline Djordjevic)
I love your imagery of the "mysterious house on top of the hil with the most amazing view of the sea." So jealous! I love the ocean, and spent many a summer day enjoying the beaches along the NJ shoreline. I hope some day to own my own beach house and crab off my own sailboat! I too alluded to family photos in the last line of my poem. It's interesting how many of us did. Lovely poem. (Kim Douglas)
Name: Caroline Djordjevic
Poem:
“Where I’M From”
I am from the square, nondescript house full of frowning chaos and belligerence, its roof raising from high tension and walls bursting from the weight of dissonance.
I am from the lush, wild abundance of graceful purples irises, hot pink dahlias, ruby red strawberries, proud carrots, smooth melons, and fragrant gardenias calling my name like sirens for generous droplets of nectar, water.
I am from the fake, smarmy politician wasp nests and bright neon chartreuse billboards excitedly worshiping idols with clay feet.
I am from the quiet, cold streets, trudging up steps to deliver propaganda with tiny, cold chapped fingers and runny nose, cringing at the barking dog and sour faces, dreaming of being comfortable Cindy Brady.
I am from the warm, cozy cushiony bosom of Baba; her bureau crammed with exotic chocolates and rainbows of confections, teasing my yearning tastebuds.
I am the saucer eyed Catholic schoolgirl regretting her sins and nervously swallowing the wafer of forgiveness, gold braids quietly standing at attention.
I am from the old tire swing over the catfish pond with bright-eyed green frogs gazing as the little blondie swings overhead, splashing into their living rooms.
I am from the embrace of the wise old cherry tree, tempting me with with luscious, glistening baubles of red as I scaled closer to my tasty prizes.
I am from the sweet, cooing murmurs of the baby boy nuzzling my breast, as he dozes contentedly to the steady metronome of Mama’s heart.
I am from the sea of bright, excited faces and idle chatter as I call out tongue-tying name after name from the lifeboat of the podium.
I am Lucy and the golden daffodils that Wordsworth spoke of eons ago in his emotion recollected in tranquility far off in the cool climes of England.
I am hanging from one of Vincent’s stars, as I ponder the beauty of Monet’s lilypads and wonder if Modigliani could ever love a curvy Slavic woman.
I am from the quiet, safe confines of the library, ensconced on rough, scratchy carpet while I savor the adventures of Pippi and wonder if I could ever be like Nancy Drew.
I am from the hot, rolling Atlantic Ocean floating around with abandon while stingrays and hammerheads patrol their turf not too far away.
I am from the dark, dreary maze of projects dotted with empty faces and shady characters flitting around blabbering insanely as I quickly toss my bookbag into the car and vamoose.
Comments:
You’re descriptions leap into visuals, like the colors in “The Wizard of Oz”, deep, rich and punctuated. Good writing really stands out. Possibly, because of your mostly vivid descriptions, I’m very curious about the things you don’t describe so lucidly; the propaganda, politician and projects. (Jet Odrerir)
Thanks for the praise...my father was a politician for over 30 years, and I grew up having to deliver his political brochures to every house in my city; it was boring and tedious work, and I was often cold and hungry. We had crews of young people, and an adult would drop us off at the end of each street block and pick us up later after we had finished delivering the "propaganda". He had big bright chartreuse and hunter green brochures with our name plastered on them. I grew up seeing my name all over the place; it was unreal. (Caroline)
I enjoyed reading your poem. You are very descriptive and great at creating visuals. I can relate the catfish pond with a tire swing and frogs. I can remember doing all of those things when I was young. We used to catch hundreds of frogs and try to translate them in our small pond in the yard. You are a much more talented writere than I am. Nice job.
Jason W.
Name: Tracy Herber
Poem:
I am from sunshine that warms my body, from Tetley Iced Tea that quenches my thirst and sunglasses .
I am from the comfy lazy boy rocker that knocks me out instantly.
I am from the daffodils and the tulips that beautify this earth.
I am from camping and patience from Roy and Tyler and Logan.
I am from the all-male household and lots of testosterone.
From caring for the elderly and respecting others.
I am from the Lutheran religion.
I'm from Reading, PA and distant Indian ancestry, bananas and peaches.
From the birth of our first son taking his time to enter the world and the birth of our second son who practically couldn't wait.
I am from piles and piles of photo albums, boxes of pictures and endless video tapes indicating wild and crazy momemts of wonderful memories.
Comments:
Name: Jason Doherty
Poem:
Where I’m From…… by Jason Doherty
I am from horseshoes, from big shiny belt buckles and boots.
I am from the dust in the air (swirling, brown, with the magnificent heat of the sun).
I am from the rolling tumbleweeds, and mangled mesquite bush, the rugged and rough.
I am from BBQ Pits and singing songs, from Marlbro-Little Pa and Weather Channel-Mee Maw, living the simple Texas life.
I am from loyalty and hard work. I am from a place in which ones “word” means everything.
I am from anything is possible and never stop dreaming.
I am from the truth and the light. The cross and its sacrifice. Baptised in the faith as if it were my own.
I am from Oil, Cotton, and Cattle by way of Irish hopefuls to find a better life. From Bangers and Mash to Bacon and Beans I come.
From the hands of my grandfather, Toby Doherty, who worked his whole life as a roughneck so that his son could have education I come. I come as only the second of my surname to attain a college degree.
I am from those moments,
The ones in which we evolve and disappear,
Ones which we try to grasp, but only realize the peace of the universe resides within.
Comments:
Name: Susan Brien
Poem:
I am from the shadows
from radio and song
I am from the rooms of soft colors, bursting with anger and sadness.
I am from the lilies, the city, and the plains;
I’m from music and Leprechauns (short people),
from Mary and Ralph.
I’m from the unknown anger and ever present bottle,
From God loves you and I wish I never had the first one of you.
I’m from positives statements and hypocrisy,
of saying the right things and not living them,
I’m from Ireland, Wales, Switzerland, and Germany,
of macaroni and cheese, fish sticks, and hating mushrooms.
From a Swiss pioneer of Dubuque, Iowa (my great grandmother) whose name was changed when she came here to live with her father after his divorce from her mother who remarried and lived in Germany and never saw her daughter again;
From the Irish great grandfather who was shot in the Civil War who was a house painter, a shoe maker, and a landscaper in Chicago, who met his girlfriend in a cemetery to grab a few moments of togetherness because her father disapproved of him.
The Grand Uncle who fought in the Spanish-American War and was shell-shocked, the mother who was a professional singer, the grandfather from Swansea who died on a golf course, and the father who was an angry, explosive, unhappy guy. From the only picture of me as a baby that has survived, from my grandmother’s wedding ring that I wear every day, from my website about genealogy http://www.alxnme,com , from the card given to me by Todd that I take with me everywhere, from the mental illness of my brother for whom I am guardian, from all of my kids who are my real heroes, and from the notes from parents and students who mean a lot to me and from those who love me and those who refuse to love me.
I am.
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